“I haven’t had mine,” said Rollins, stepping forward excitedly.  “You, or your scapegrace boy there, robbed my hen-roost the other night, and you’ve robbed it before.  There isn’t a man in this region but believes that it was you who burned the barns and hay-stacks.  We won’t stand this nonsense another hour.  You’ve got to come to my hay-fields and work out the price of those chickens, and after that I’ll give you fair wages.  But if there’s any more trouble, we’ll clean you out as we would a family of weasels.”

“Yes, neighbor Bagley,” added Mr. Jones, in his dry, caustic way, “think soberly.  I hope you are sober.  I’m not one of the threatening barkin’ sort, but I’ve reached the p’int where I’ll bite.  The law will protect us, an’ the hull neighborhood has resolved, with Mr. Durham here, that you and your children shall make no more trouble than he and his children.  See?”

“Look-a-here,” began the man, blusteringly, “you needn’t come threatenin’ in this blood-and-thunder style.  The law’ll protect me as well as—­”

Ominous murmurs were arising from all my neighbors, and Mr. Jones now came out strong.

“Neighbors,” he said, “keep cool.  The time to act hasn’t come yet.  See here, Bagley, it’s hayin’ and harvest.  Our time’s vallyble, whether yours is or not.  You kin have just three minutes to decide whether you’ll take your oath to stop your maraudin’ and that of your children;” and he pulled out his watch.

“Let me add my word,” said a little man, stepping forward.  “I own this house, and the rent is long overdue.  Follow neighbor Jones’s advice or we’ll see that the sheriff puts your traps out in the middle of the road.”

“Oh, of course,” began Bagley.  “What kin one feller do against a crowd?”

“Sw’ar, as I told you,” said Mr. Jones, sharply and emphatically.  “What do you mean by hangin’ fire so?  Do you s’pose this is child’s play and make-believe?  Don’t ye know that when quiet, peaceable neighbors git riled up to our pitch, they mean what they say?  Sw’ar, as I said, and be mighty sudden about it.”

“Don’t be a fool,” added his wife, who stood trembling behind him.  “Can’t you see?”

“Very well, I sw’ar it,” said the man, in some trepidation.

“Now, Bagley,” said Mr. Jones, putting back his watch, “we want to convert you thoroughly this mornin’.  The first bit of mischief that takes place in this borough will bring the weight of the law on you;” and, wheeling on his heel, he left the yard, followed by the others.

CHAPTER XXXIV

GIVEN A CHANCE

“Come in, Mr. Bagley,” I said, “and bring the children.  I want to talk with you all.  Merton, you go home with Junior.”

But, papa—­” he objected.

“Do as I bid you,” I said, firmly, and I entered the squalid abode.

The man and the children followed me wonderingly.  I sat down and looked the man steadily in the eye for a moment.